Pieces of Power
by TolkienScribe
Summary: On a quiet night playing chess, Oropher and Thranduil speak about the pieces holding power. Part of Green Leaves universe. One-shot. Complete. Do read and review!


**Pieces of Power**

 **Summary:** On a quiet night playing chess, Oropher and Thranduil speak about the pieces holding power.

 **Disclaimer:** Not one chess piece.

All of my stories are interconnected unless stated otherwise but you do not need to read one to understand the other.

My stories are now found in a chronological sequence on my bio.

Enjoy!

 **~S~**

 _Thranduil's Halls,_

 _Late Second Age,_

Thranduil never hid the fact that he despised chess. If he had his way, he would gladly spend years without glancing at a chessboard. But his father thought differently about the game of strategy and often requested Thranduil do join him. Most of the time, it was not a request.

Thranduil looked at the chessboard with loathing and knew he was lost. Many of his pieces lay outside the board and one of his knights were imprisoned in his father's fist.

"Doesn't it ever bother you to win so easily?" Thranduil demanded. Oropher laughed quietly.

"Doesn't it bother you to lose so easily?" Oropher countered, still rolling Thranduil's knight in his hand. He moved his piece forward with his free hand, claiming Thranduil's king. "You are defeated."

Thranduil hid his relief. He lost three times already and now he was free to excuse himself. That was their ritual. But Oropher surprised him.

"Set the chessboard again."

Thranduil knew better than to argue. He went to work quietly, rearranging the pieces scattered around the board first. Oropher was not a strict father but he was disciplined and expected discipline in return. There was time when he was merrier, with a smile that never left his face but that was before Thranduil's mother died in the Sacking of Doriath. After that, Oropher was aloof, silent with a polite yet distant smile on his face and a guarded tongue that hid his many thoughts.

Thranduil finished and held his hand out for the piece still clutched in Oropher's hand. Oropher did not react immediately. Instead he studied its details before setting the piece on its rightful place by himself.

The chessboard was a work of art in itself. It was commissioned by Oropher from the Noldorin, who were well-known for their unique art. The chessboard was a perfect medley of wood and stone, where the two elements alternated each other as tiles. The wood was layered, tempered and reinforced until it was as strong as its neighbouring stone tiles. One side of the board was occupied by pieces of stone, all of which was carved and smoothened until the pieces were nearly lifelike. The pieces on the other side were made from wood where its surface was polished and coated with amber-coloured resin so that it gleamed.

At Oropher's languid gesture, Thranduil took the first step and moved his piece across the board.

"What lessons does one learn from a game of chess?"

Thranduil swallowed. It was what he feared; his father was in a philosophical mood.

"Humour me," Oropher said and Thranduil nodded wordlessly. His father had the uncanny talent of knowing what went on in his mind.

"It teaches strategy," Thranduil said as Oropher moved a piece. Thranduil claimed it immediately when it was his turn. "It teaches you that your mistakes come at a cost."

"And that some of the enemy's 'mistakes' are often traps," Oropher said as he defeated Thranduil's piece.

"It teaches us to have the broader image in view, then." Thranduil amended. Oropher chuckled. The fire was still brining brightly in the fireplace, casting the entire room in reddish glow and shadows.

"Just so," Oropher murmured. Silence fell as Thranduil studied the board. He was more alert than before, not as keen to leave. Oropher's lectures had that effect on wakening his senses, like a game of swords for the mind.

The fire crackling was the only sound that invaded his mind while he pondered the next move. Finally he moved his knight, thus endangering the advisor across from him.

"A bold move," Oropher murmured. "That brings to our next question. Which is the most important piece on the board?"

Thranduil studied the board carefully. The soldier only moved one step forward and diagonally only when it claimed an enemy. There was the king and the queen. The advisor moved diagonally. The fortress moved forward and sideways, while the knight moved three steps in one direction and one step in the other.

"The queen," Thranduil said at last.

"Close," Oropher said thoughtfully. "But not true."

Thranduil studied the board again.

"The king," he said at last.

"Closer," Oropher said with a smile that told him little. "But still not true."

Thranduil studied the chessboard. What else piece was stronger than the rest? The queen was strong and so was the king. The other pieces were strong in their own rights, but each had its own weakness. Unless-

Thranduil sat forward until he was nearly sitting at the edge of his seat. His father was often wanted different answers to his questions. He stole a look and found his father's face a perfect mask of impassiveness. He would find no help there.

But there was indeed a stronger piece on the board above all the other pieces.

"It is the one playing the chess," Thranduil guessed. Oropher's lips curved into a smile of approval.

"Excellent," his father murmured and Thranduil nodded once to acknowledge his praise. His heart soared, though. Oropher leaned forward, tracing the edges of the board with the tips of his fingers. "The mind behind the game is the most important. Each one of these pieces has their own use and each one of them has a flaw through which they are defeated, but the mind behind it uses all of them in a way to win victory." Oropher moved a piece. Thranduil moved and claimed it. Oropher moved another, challenging a soldier. Thranduil tensed; if his father managed to defeat Thranduil's soldier, he would endanger Thranduil's queen. "The world is a bit like chess. Especially for those of us in power. We command, we rule, we lead and the rest of the kingdom follows us like sheep herded by a sheepherder. They want little things in life, like safety, food, drink, shelter... Comforts, in short. When they have it, they have little complains. It is a dangerous thing; there is a fine line between a bountiful lord and a tyrant."

Thranduil glanced from the troubling situation on the board and at his father.

"Sometimes what the person does is tyrannical but he is not a tyrant to all," Thranduil said. Oropher chuckled darkly.

"Of course not. Even a tyrant has his own supporters... his own cult, if you will," Oropher's voice deepened as he spoke quietly. "A tyrant is one who threatens your principles when he starts to make exceptions from it; for the less fortunate, the smaller in number, and the ones who are different. Every tyrant has something good in them. No one is born completely evil or good, and it only depends which side of them prevails. Few realise that if such a person has power, then he has the power to do both good and bad. And he will use both." Thranduil sighed. There was no way he could save his soldier. Instead, he moved his fortress, hoping for some protection to his queen. His plan was flawed; Oropher was a better player.

"You would think one learns from history," Thranduil commented. "It is an easy way to stop a tyrant from ascension."

"History is a strange thing, and memory even stranger." Oropher picked up the piece challenging Thranduil's soldier and turned it slowly between his fingers. Thranduil tensed, waiting as if he anticipated a physical blow. "The young are foolish and refuse to listen to their elders. They think, 'how would the past concern us?' Surely, it does not matter. The tears, the worries, the grief and the passionate speech of how it should never again happen are all in the past. Surely the future is different. But history always repeats itself. The dead linger, only to haunt us again."

Thranduil remained silent, watching the piece turn in his father's hand in a mesmerising fashion.

"They are like pieces on a chessboard, only moved when their liege-lord promises them comforts and encourages them to do things they would never have the courage to do before. Things like compassion, respect, mercy and warmth become fickle things."

"And then, in the end, they are all simply pawns." Oropher brought down his piece with such strength that he broke Thranduil's soldier asunder.

Thranduil stared at the broken piece, aghast. He never saw his father lose himself in such a way. Oropher sighed and rose from his chair. He went to the window and folded his hands behind his back. The light from the fireplace sharpened his silhouette, turning his silvery hair into light red.

Thranduil watched him gravely, knowing what was on his father's mind. He rose from his chair and joined his father by the window.

"It is not our fault who the people choose as their liege-lord."

"Isn't it?" Oropher challenged, turning to him swiftly. "Silence is a form of consent. It shows that if you were truly against the idea, then you would have had the courage to say nay. Yet, you didn't. So you are not averse to it as you think and you agree enough to let it all come to pass."

"It should not trouble you because it is not your land," Thranduil said gently. "They are not your people. It is not your fight."

Oropher smiled at him, and Thranduil noticed it was the saddest he ever seen on his father's face.

"It is not my fight? Ah, Thranduil, that was what we believed when we lived in Doriath. The men called for aid. The dwarves called for aid. Our own kind called for aid. Yet, we stayed where we were. When the kinslayers came for us, there were no allies left for us. If you continue to think that the fight is far and it is not your own, then remember a time will came when the battle-cries will come from your doorstop and you will be abandoned just as you abandoned them when they needed you most." Oropher sighed. "I'll keep my silence... for now. But danger will come from it, I am certain."

Oropher's softly-spoken words did little to cushion the blow. So Thranduil frowned, troubled and said nothing as he gazed out to the forest stretched before them.

 **~S~**

 **Author's Notes:**

Inspired by a saying,

 _"In the end, we are all pawns in someone's game."_

But I am not sure of its source. Do let me know.

Another quote which I adore is, by Martin Niemöller,

 _"First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Socialist. Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out-Because I was not a Trade Unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out— because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me."_

This may turn into a series of companion pieces, based on the main things that make up the world. At the moment, this is the first and standalone piece.

The idea that Thranduil is playing the wood side is a bit of soft play symbolising my story "Kementári", in which Thranduil gains his famous crown.

Do leave a review!


End file.
